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HISTORY OF JOHN BARR, 

CONTAINING 

SOME PARTICULARS 

RELATIVE 

TO THE EARLY PART. OF HIS hlFK. 



WRITTEN BY HIMSELF, 

AND LEFT AS A LEGACY TO HIS GRAND-CHILDREN. 



" We speak that we do know, and testify that we have 
seen." 



PHILADELPHIA: 

GEORGE, LATIMER AND CO. 
No. 13 South Fourth street. 



1833. 



INDEX. 



PAGE 



Some Remarks relative loMr. Barr*s life and character, 5 

Address to his Grand-children, - - - 11 
His Narrative, 

Chap, f . His Family History, - r - 13 

« His Early Life, - - - 14 

" Remarkable Dream, - - - 16 

" Religious Impressions, - - - 23 

Chap. II. Removal to North Carolina, - - 27 

" Danger of being Drowned, - - ib. 

Chap HI. Various Exercises of Mind, . - - 30 

" Preparation for the Lord's Supper, 36 

Chap. IV. Remarkable Sabbath, - - - 42 

Chap. V. Various Temptations, - - - 50 

" Sabbath Exercises, - - - 52 

" Concluding Remarks, - - - 59 

APPENDIX. 
Remarks on Salvation by Grace and the operations of 

the Holy Spirit, - - - - 61 
on Reading the Scriptures in Family Wor- 
ship, - - - - - 64 



The Religious Experience of John McCorkle, Esq. 
I. Brief notice of him, - - - - 70 ^ 
11. Series of Letters on his Experience, - - 71 



SOME REMARKS 



RELATIVE TO 

MR. BARR'S LIFE AND CHARACTER. 



Mr. John Bare, the subject and writer of 
the following " Narrative," resided in Rowan 
county. North Carolina, about fifteen miles 
west of the town of Salisbury. As his whole 
life, from the age of fifteen to eighty-two, 
was passed in the same neighbourhood, his 
person, circumstances, and character, are well 
known to the inhabitants, who are therefore 
competent witnesses either to confirm or dis- 
prove what is here stated. 

His occupation was that of a farmer. The 
tilling of his own ground with his own hands, 
yielded him more than a mere competency 
for himself and family — in connection with 
contentment and almost uninterrupted health. 

It may be inferred from the account which 
he gives of his early life, that Mr. Barr en» 

A 



c 



THE HISTORY OF 



joyed very limited opportunities of education. 
Bat he possessed what is much more certain 
in its results — a love of knowledge that shrank 
from no difficulties in its pursuit. So that 
his attainments in almost every department 
of intellectual cultivation within reach of the 
English scholar, were far superior to what is 
common with men whose " hands minister 
unto their necessities and to them that are 
with them." Geography, History, and Chro- 
nglogy, Ancient and Modern ; Natural, Moral 
and Mental Philosophy, in addition to sub- 
jects connected with Theology, w^ere his daily 
studies, each receiving in turn his undivided 
attention. The structure of his mind was 
masculine, and his -memory uncommonly re- 
tentive ; he therefore pursued these paths of 
science with a success truly remarkable. I 
w^ell remember after graduating, to have passed 
a day with him to my utter amazement. 
The acquaintance he manifested with almost 
every department of science to which my at- 
tention had been called, notwithstanding the 
difficulties under which he nmst have la- 
boured in their investigation, was surpassed 



JOHN BARR. 



7 



only by the simplicity of his mind, which 
seemed not to allow him even to suppose that 
his attainments were beyond those common to 
men of his manner of life. 

It may be asked, how a farmer could obtain 
time for such studies. I can only answer, 
that during a long and laborious life, he al- 
ways gained time to lay up something new. 
The true secret of which was, he paid 

" no moment but in purchase of its worth." 

The passing events of both the religious 
and political world received from him their 
tribute of attention. The cause of missions 
and Sabbath-schools particularly lay near his 
heart. To the former he contributed, by dif- 
fusing information, by his money and his 
prayers ; while in addition to these, the Sab- 
bath-school had his instructions as a regular 
teacher, until a short time before his decease. 

In the various departments of his reading, 
he kept pace with the world ; so that his la- 
mentation was not, " that the former days 
were better than these," but that while so 
much was being accomplished, he had it in 
his power to do no more in aiding the caus« 
of universal reformation. 



THE HISTORY Or 



The narrative supersedes the necessity of 
any remarks upon the writer's religious ex- 
perience. Of the character of his piety, some 
conception may be formed from the structure 
of his mind and his studies. His religion, as 
it manifested itself in actual life, was remarka- 
bly uniform: he was steadfast, unmovable, 
always abounding in the work of the Lord" — 
and moreover he knew that his labour was 
not in vain in the Lord. His manner was 
grave, his piety intelligent and cheerful ; he 
was the profitable companion of the aged, 
and an acceptable member in the circle of 
the young. 

Early in life he was ordained a Ruling 
Elder in the Presbyterian Church of Thya- 
tira, Rowan county,- and after the organiza- 
tion of that of Back Creek, near to his resi- 
dence, with which Church he connected him- 
self, he there held the same office until the 
close of life. To his worth as a member of 
Church judicatories, they whom he often met 
in council, can bear testimony. 

Mr. Barr died November 10th, 1831, aged 
eighty-two years, in the exercise of his rea- 



JOHN EARK. 



9 



son, and supported by the Christian's hope. 
In the burying-ground of Thyatira Church 
his body lies, with those of his family who 
have gone before him. 



To the publication of these brief notices, 
and the following Narrative, it may be ob- 
jected, that they contain notJiing remarkable. 
In answer to which, it may be said, 

1. Mr. Barr was a man extensively known 
and as universally beloved. His friends and 
acquaintances would be pleased to possess 
that in which they can ''see him as he was," 
and " by which, he being dead, yet speaketh." 

2. That these pages present nothing "re- 
markable," I humbly conceive is no objection 
to their being given to the public. Strange 
things interest us all, but are by no means so 
instructive, as that " great cloud of witnesses" 
to the goodness and care of God, which we 
have in the common events and blessings of 
life. The religious experience of such a man 
as Mr. Barr, will, in a great degree, answer 
to that of every true Christian. And because 
he was a man in common life, others of like 

A 2 



10 TliE inSTGKY OF JOHN llAHli. 



standing may with more profit view the way 
by which he was led. 

3* Much of our Biography is on one of 
two extremes — Mr. Barr occupies a middle 
ground, where, by far the larger part of the 
inhabitants of our Christian country are 
found. He was neither rich nor poor — 
neither learned, in the common acceptation 
of the term, nor illiterate- — was neither high 
in office, nor too low to be observed — neither 
a presumptuous transgressor at any time, nor 
one sanctified from his birth. 

4. In him the power and worth of religion 
are seen, as it brings under condemnation 
one, who, in the view of men, as "touching 
the righteousness in the law, was blameless 
and enables him in his old age thus to close 
his Narrative : 

— "Having obtained help of God, I con- 
tinue to this day, hoping and trusting that 
the blood of Christ which clean seth from all 
sin, will still continue to cleanse, and at last 
present ine v/ithout spot before his Father's 
throne,;#hen I shall see his face and sing his 
praise— world without end. Amen." S. 

Doylestown, Pa. January 17, 1833* 



ADDRESS TO HIS GRAND-CHILDREN, 



My Dear Childeen : 

My heart's desire and prayer to God for 
you is, that you may be saved. 

What advantages or disadvantages the age 
you are now entering on raay offer for that 
purpose, is to me altogether unknown. If 
you should be so happy as never to hear the 
doctrine of salvation by grace, or the opera- 
tions of the Holy Spirit on the human heart, 
doubted by some, and denied and derided by 
others; you may, in this respect at least, be 
said to live in a better age than your grand- 
father did. To give my feeble testimony to 
the truth of these doctrines, is what is prin- 
cipally intended in the following narrative. 
Subordinate to this, is a desire to leave a 
pledge of my respect and affection for you, 
that when I am silent in the dust, you may 
have these lines to serve as a memorandum, 
to remind you that you had a grand-father who 
cared for you while living, and who, " being 



THE HISTORY OF JOHN BARR. 



dead, yet speaketh." You may also profit by 
my mistakes and errors, which are every 
where to be seen : and if you find any thing 
wwthy of imitation, copy after it, not as the 
example of a weak, fallible creature ; but as 
you find it authorized and approbated by the 
oracles of truth. 

Let me hope that none of you will defer 
religion as long as I did, and upon the same 
mistaken and presumptuous grounds. The 
sooner you get it the better. In a word, l«t 
it be your first, your chief concern, to become 
religious. With this you will be rich, though 
you have nothing else. " As having nothing, 
and yet possessing all things." I know not 
how to conclude this address better than in 
the words of inspiration by Moses and the 
Apostle Paul* — to which I will add my 
Amen. — " The Lord bless you and keep you 
—the Lord lift up his countenance upon you 
and give you peace.'^ " Now the God of peace 
make you perfect in every good w^ork to do 
his v/ill, wwking in you that which is well 
pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to 
whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen, and 
Amen.'' ^ J. B. 

* Num. 6.— Heb. 13. 



THE HISTORY OF JOHN BARR, 

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 



CHAPTER 1. 

I WAS born in the lower part of Pennsyl- 
vania in the fall of the year 1749, of Irish 
parents. 

The spring following my father moved up 
to York county, Little Connewago, where he 
lived till 1765, when he came to Rowan 
county, North Carolina, October 5th, and 
died the year following, October 31st, at the 
age of 57 years, leaving four daughters and 
five sons. My father's name was William. 
He was of a middle stature, plain in his man- 
ners, mild in his deportment, and exemplary 
in his life. His talents were moderate, and 
seemed to excel in no one except in strength 
of memory. My youngest sister was mar- 
ried to John McCorkle, January 27th, 1774. 



14 



THE HISTORY OT 



On the 4th of April, 1776, I was joined in 
marriage to Mary King, daughter of Richard 
King, by whom I had ten children. 

But it is now time to take a retrospect of 
the former part of my life. " When 1 was a 
child, I spake as a child, I understood as a 
child, I thought as a child." Thus f^r I 
could imitate the great Apostle: but when I 
became a man, I found it not so easy with 
him to " put away childish things." At the 
age of sixty-five years, it will not be expected 
that any thing more than a sketch can be 
given, and that a very imperfect one ; but it 
may be depended on, so far as it goes, to be 
correct. 

Being born of religious parents, their care 
and attention was exercised in endeavouring 
to bring me up in the nurture and fear of God. 
I seemed naturally to have an attachment to 
books, and was fond of learning to read, and 
was not without som.e very early serious im- 
pressions, whether they could be called reli- 
gious or not. I was told that heaven was a 
pretty place and that good people went there. 
I wondered that every body did not be good. 



JOHN BARE. 



15 



I think, about the age of three or four, my 
father bought me a new book with a sky-blue 
cover, which recommended it to me very 
much — I thought heaven was all like the 
cover of my book. 

I recollect about this time to have asked 
my mother what people should do to get to 
heaven ? She told me if I wanted to go to 
heaven, I must be a good boy — must say my 
prayers — read my book — not fight, or tell 
lies, &c. These conditions I thought I could 
very easily comply with ; but thought it was 
not enough to pray twice a day ; and asked 
her why people did not keep praying always 1 
She told me people could not live without 
eating, and must work to get something to 
eat. I saw the force of this, and made no 
reply ; yet still I thought with myself, that if 
people would do nothing but pray till they 
should die of hunger, it would be very likely 
to secure heaven to them. I thought that if 
praying twice a day would make me good, 
praying seven times a day would make me 
better. This was more than mere specu- 
lation ; I actually tried to put it in practice ; 



16 



THE HISTORY OF 



SO early and deeply rooted did the legal spirit 
appear. I soon, however, began to relax a 
little ; and it was not long till I thought twice 
a day was too much trouble. And I know 
not whether I should not have laid it aside 
altogether, had it not been for some alarming 
dreams I had about this time. I frequently 
dreamed that the day of judgment was come, 
and it always found me unprepared. One 
dream in particular I will here insert at 
length, which made an impression on my 
mind that I could not easily shake off. 

I thought myself on a vast extended plain, 
where I could see in every direction as far as 
the eye could reach. And looking up to the 
sky, I thought it parted and fell off to each 
side — when, to my no small astonishment, a 
light which darkened the sun appeared in the 
opening a little south of where I stood. I did 
not hesitate a moment about the cause of this 
light. I had no doubt that it was Christ 
coming to judgment. I saw the appearance 
of one like the Son of Man clothed in light, 
attended with thousands and tens of thou- 
sands of shining forms which I supposed to be 



JOHN BARK. 



17 



angels, descending as if to the spot where I 
stood ; but stopped in the region of the clouds, 
and did not come quite to the ground. I saw 
a throne erected, and heard the loud trumpet 
sound, " arise ye dead and come to judgnient." 
I cast my eyes around and saw the earth 
teeming with its former inhabitants, the dead 
rising in every direction. Some had got on 
their feet — others appeared in a sitting posi- 
tion — whilst only the heads of some were to 
be seen above ground. But this I observed, 
that all faces were turned towards where I 
was, and every one, so soon as disengaged 
from his clay, moved with hasty steps towards 
the centre where I stood, till a countless mul- 
titude filled the plain. I should have been 
very glad to have been only a spectator of 
this scene ; but found I must have a sharcj 
and act a part in it. The order of process I 
<lo not so well recollect, as w^hat followed it — 
which, I suppose I shall never forget, so long 
as 1 am capable of remembering any thing. 
A separation took place in this vast assem- 
bly — one part seemed to mount as on eagles' 
wings towards heaven. 1 followed them with 



18 



THE HISTORY OF 



a wishful eye till out of sight, but remained 
still with those left upon the ground. It was 
not long however till the multitude on the 
ground was put in motion by legions of 
frightful beings which I had no doubt v/ere 
devils ; and I among the rest descended a long 
declivity, at the end of which, as I expected, 
we came in sight of hell's gate. It was not 
without great reluctance that I proceeded — 
and though I felt no external force pushing 
me forward, yet I was somehow impelled to 
move on in a way that 1 could not resist. I 
at last came to the gate, and set my foot upon 
the threshold — the gate was wide and had 
been crowded for some time — I being near 
the last was not jostled by any person — I took 
my stand on the threshold, laying fast hold 
of one of the side-posts, and looked in. It 
was a most dismal place, beyond all descrip- 
tion or conception I had formed of it — some 
parts had the blackness of darkness — in 
others, objects could be seen in a dim twi- 
light. I observed that it was much easier to 
get in than to get out again : the way to it 
being down hill, the door but little raised, 



JOHN BARK. 



19 



and then a perpendicular pitch down, more 
than the length of a man's body. I thought 
with myself that if 1 would once go in, I 
would never get out again ^ and resolved that 
I would not go in if I could do otherwise. 
O! how precious did time appear to me 
then. I thought if I had but one day, how 
I would improve it ! how I would pray, and 
strive, and live ! The thoughts of going into 
hell were greatly aggravated too, by the 
hopes I had formerly entertained of getting 
into the joys of heaven. I did not know, 
however, but a prayer might be heard from 
the very gates of hell, and resolved that if I 
could do nothing else, I would pray even 
before I went into it. I had learned the 
Lord's prayer, which was all that I made use 
of at that time ; and began to say it over as 
well as I could ; but my fears of every mo- 
ment dropping into hell awoke me, when I 
found myself about half through, speaking 
with an audible, broken accent, weeping at 
the same time : some of the family awoke 
me, and asked what ailed me ? I answered 
that I had only been dreaming. 



20 



THE HISTORY OF 



I begin with my dream, which appears to^ 
me a little extraordinary on two accounts. 

1. The order and regularity of it, which 
is not common tome in dreaming. However 
regular my thoughts might appear to be in 
sleep, I had but few dreams that would stand 
the sober investigation and reflection of 
waking hours ; but, generally speaking, were 
too full of inconsistencies and incoherences 
to be classed among the cogitations of a ra- 
tional creature. 

2. I could hardly persuade myself other- 
wise than that some things in it were beyond 
my acquired knowledge at that time. I re- 
collect sometime after to have read a de- 
scription of the general judgment, which 
placed the seat of it in the air; and was 
struck with the likeness that appeared be- 
tween the description in that particular and 
my dream ; but cannot recollect to have had 
any other idea before, than that it should be 
upon the earth. 

But here perhaps I may incur the charge 
of enthusiasm, in seeming to indicate that I 
had a new revelation in sleep. I do not 



JOHN BARK. 



21 



admit the charge, for two reasons : First, I 
am not certain that I had not the idea before; 
my not being able to recollect it is not suffi- 
cient evidence to my own mind that no such 
idea existed there ; but of this I am certain, 
that if I had the idea, it had made very little 
impression on my mind. Secondly, on the 
supposition that I had not the idea before, it 
was not what i would call a new revelation ; 
but what was before plainly revealed. In 
i Thessalonians, iv. 17, Paul mentions at 
least the saints meeting the I^ord in the air, 
whether He will descend with them to the 
new earth (as some think,) or not. So that 
taken either way, that I had, or had not the 
idea before, I can see nothing but what is in 
perfect unison with the promise of the Com- 
forter, (John xiv. 26,) who was to teach things 
before unnoticed or unknown, and bring to re- 
membrance things that were known before. 
I know it may be said, that "although in the 
early ages God was pleased to communicate 
instruction by dreams, visions, &c., as Elihu 
observes, (Job xxxiii. 14—16,) in this age of 
the world, it seems rather superstitious to ex- 
B 2 



22 THE HISTOEY OF 

pect communications in sleep, when we have 
ROW a more sure word of prophecy." 

I must confess that I am no great advocate 
for dreams, and that any communications that 
are now made, when the canon of Scripture 
is completed, must be in conformity wath the 
WTitten Word ; but if a revealed truth that 
had been but little known, or scarcely noticed 
before, is in a dream more deeply impressed 
on the mind, I should be unwilling to reject 
it; because I believe that there may be a 
good as w^ell as an evil agency in our minds 
in sleep ; and that we may now in the night 
season be instructed, as well as those in David's 
time. For this we have the authority of the 
Apostle Peter, in his quotation of, and com- 
ment on the prophet Joel — (Acts ii. 17,) and 
that dreams should be occasioned by, or a 
consequence of, pouring out of the Spirit. 

I shall now dismiss this particular, by ob- 
serving, wdth an eminent English writer,* 

That the phenomenon of dreaming is inex- 
plicable at least, if not absolutely impossible, 
without taking in the agency and intervention 
of spiritual beings to us invisible." 

* Baxter on the Vis inertise in Newton, vol. 1st. 

% 



JOHN BARK. 23 

About the age of five or six, I was much 
entertained with a little book written, I think, 
by James Jane way, on the piety and happy 
deaths of children, from the age I then was 
and upward. If T recollect rights the title 
was, "Janeway-s Token for Children." I 
remember once of taking it out to the field — 
(I think I had some small charge assigned to 
me of keeping cattle from the corn, which 
required but little attention,) and sitting down 
on a log, and reading till my eyes so over- 
flowed with tears, that I could not see to read 
any more. I knelt down and prayed, i had 
by this time learned some forms of prayer 
out of my mother's catechism ; but this was 
the first time I recollect to have ventured to 
make use of my own words, or what is called 
extemporary prayer. Thus I spent perhaps 
some hours ; reading and praying alternately. 
I thought it would be a very desirable event 
to die and go to heaven. I could not content 
myself with being a common Christian ; I 
wanted to be eminent for piety and religion. 
But these thoughts having spent their force, I 
returned again to my former state of coldness 
and carelessness. 



tl4 



THE HISTORY OF 



At eight years of age, I attended preach- 
ing frequently ; and although it was not much 
calculated to alarm sinners, yet I went home 
sometimes very uneasy. When the works of 
a true believer were described, I found I 
could not apply them. I was however fruit- 
ful in expedients, to prevent myself from 
being, as I thought, too much disturbed. 
Yet I found that I had enough to do to per- 
suade myself that all was well with me* 

The first expedient that occurred to me 
was, " that 1 was as good as my neighbours, 
and if it fared ill with me, it would fare ill 
with a great many." This satisfied me for a 
while, till at last, I thought if it should fare ill 
with others, it would be but a poor consola- 
tion for me, that I had gone to hell for the 
sake of company ! In another expedient, I 
thought I was more correct and more ra- 
tional. I knew that it was the preacher's bu- 
siness to try to make the people good, and 
that people were more disposed to stop, short 
of the line of rectitude, than to reach or go 
over it. I thought then that it was a piece 
of wise policy in a preacher, when drawing 



JOHN BAER. 



25 



the character of a man, to go a little over the 
mark in order to bring the people np to it : 
or perhaps draw the character of a man far 
advanced in religion, vi^hich the young be- 
ginner was by no means yet able to imitate. 
In this dexterous way of reasoning, and in 
which I was no doubt assisted by an invisible 
agency. I got the clamors of an awakened 
conscience laid asleep again. 

With respect to my external conduct, it 
was in the main irreproachable ; but I had a 
vain and empty mind, excessively fond of 
hearing my own praise ; and perhaps from no 
higher motive, was urged on to what was 
deemed laudable. At the age of eleven, I 
suppose I could have answered, without hesi- 
tation, every question in the larger and 
shorter Catechisms. About this time, Mr. 
Thompson, our minister, came round in a 
course of family visitation — and observing me 
to be forward in answering questions, he 
asked my father how old I was ? On being 
informed, he said I ought to be put to the 
Latin school. My father said nothing about 
my want of capacity to learn ; but expressed 



^6 



THE HISTORY OF 



some doubt of his circumstances being ade- 
quate to such an undertaking. This was food 
for my vanity. I began to think I was almost 
half a preacher already — and was vain and 
foolish enough to learn little scraps of Latin 
out of old authors, when they were put into 
English, such as " Onamvis est sis in tuto, 
noli esse securas" — Though you be safe, be 
not secure. But after all, my splendid talents 
amounted to little more than an ease or fa- 
cility in committing any thing to memory, 
and a power of retaining it, when some of my 
brothers were greatly superior in depths 
strength, and solidity of judgment. 



JOHN BARR. 



21 



CHAPTER II. 

When I was about fifteen, my father sold 
his land in order to move : which he did the 
year following. Having then little to do on 
the farm, I had much leisure : some of it I 
spent in going to school, and on vacant days 
/ would sometimes join a fishing party. One 
day I went alone to a mill-pond about a mile 
from home. Soon after I let down my hook, 
I found it was fast on some old wood that lay 
concealed in the water. Being afraid of 
breaking my line, and consequently losing 
my hook, which was a borrowed one, I thought 
of trying to wade in to get it off. In this at- 
tempt, to human appearance, I was the near- 
est to death, that I ever was in my life. What 
David said frequently to Jonathan — "there is 
but one step between me and death" — was 
more than literally true, w^hen there was ap- 
parently not half a step with me. 

Not knowing the depth of the water, I 
proceeded with some caution a few steps, 



28 



THE HISTORY OF 



when I was suddenly alarmed at not finding 
my bottom — and had imprudently ventured 
so far in feeling for it, that I found it much 
easier to go forward than to get back. Thus 
fixed in a kind of poise, death appeared on 
one side and life on the other, and I hung for 
a few moments in doubtful suspense between 
them 1 I could not swim, and feared that I 
should sink : the balance however soon turned 
in favour of life. 

I was glad to get out again. But my hook 
was still fast. 1 then went up a small dis- 
tance, to where some boys were at work in a 
clearing ; told them how I was sitjjjated, with 
the attempt I had made. They wefe alarmed 
on hearing the danger I had just escaped, and 
came down with me ; and being better ac- 
quainted with the fishing business than I was,> 
got my hook off safely. 

They told me that the water there was ten 
feet deep; that the bank at which I had 
stopped was perpendicular, being the bank of 
the creek's former channel. After thanking 
them for their kind assistance, I was content 
to go home without any further attempt at 



JOHN BARE. 



29 



fishing. And although I considered myself 
very fortunate in having made such a narrow 
escape, yet the impression on my mind was 
very superficial. I thought more about it 
seven or eight years after, than I did at the 
time — in these days of vanity and dissipation, 
serious thoughts were almost banished from 
my mind. 



THE niSTOHY OF 



CHAPTER III. 

After coming to Carolina, I found myself 
for some time rather lonesome, being cut off 
from intercourse with my former companions : 
I had however much time for thought and re- 
flection. There was then no stated preach- 
ing in this country ; but only occasional sup- 
plies from the northward, which were most 
frequent in the winter season. Our long 
summer Sabbath's w^ere mostly silent. These 
however afforded a great deal of time for 
reading as well as rest. Being fond of read- 
ing and rest too, the Sabbath was to me ge- 
nerally a welcome day. And I sometimes 
thought that the sun shone with more beauty 
and benignity on that day than on any other : 
that it seemed to give a more pleasing aspect 
to the whole face of nature. 

About this time I was much delighted in 
reading the dying sayings of good men, in 

Willison's Afflicted Man's Companion.'* 



JOHN BAKR. 



31 



I thought sometimes, that if I conld die 
like some of them, I did not much care how 
soon, and sometimes meditated on the joys of 
heaven till my eyes would overflow with tears ; 
not of sorrow or remorse, but of joy, of grati- 
tude, of desire, and, as I thought, of love. 
About the year 1772, the Rev. Mr. Harris 
took the charge of Thyatira congregation, for 
one or two years. In the after part of the 
summer of 1773, the administration of the 
Sacrament of the Supper Vvas proposed — pre- 
paratory to which, several days were appointed 
for catechising young people who had in 
prospect to come forward for the £rst time. 
1 attended with the rest, and being found to 
have a competency of knowledge, and no- 
thing against my moral character, the v/ay 
was open for my admission. Self-examina- 
tion was, however, to be attended to. This 
I found to be a pretty difficult business, for 
which I had neither much inclination nor ca- 
pacity — but was determined that in the re- 
suit, it ought to come out in my favour. And 
so it did. But it cost me some trouble, both 
with respect to my general character as a 



THE HISTORY OF 



Christian, and more especially as to the ex- 
ercises of some particular graces. Faith and 
repentance I had understood to be essential 
to the Christian character. Faith I thought 
to be quite an easy thing, and that I could 
believe as well as any body. I was not so 
certain about repentance — but a little doubt- 
ful whether ever I had repented in my life. 
I know I had sometimes been sorry for sin ; 
but whether my sorrow was of that kind and 
degree that was necessary to constitute 
true repentance, I could not so well deter- 
mine. 

However I thought it was best to make 
sure w^ork of it, and begin then, if I had never 
done it before. Not knowing or considering 
that Jesus Christ was exalted to give repen- 
tance, &;c. I set myself to perform that good 
work in my own strength. 

To effect this, I tried to call up all my 
sins, and set them in order before me. But 
I had been such an innocent creature^ I could 
not find materials to lay a foundation on 
which I could build repentance. I believe I 
rather repented that I had not been a greater 



JOHN BARR. 



sinner ; and almost envied the situation of a 
condemned malefactor for murder or some 
atrocious crime ; and even once thought of 
committing some gross sin that would cause 
remorse, and lay a foundation for repentance ! 
From whatever source this thought proceed- 
ed, whether from a heart blinded by ignor- 
ance and vice, or by the ruler of the darkness 
of this world, it was too gross to admit of a 
moment's serious investigation. 

I saw then no other way than, like Saul 
with the burnt offering, "to force myself" — 
but in this attempt also I failed, it gave me 
some uneasiness, that there was a grace that 
I knew to be absolutely necessary to salvation, 
and yet I could not exercise it. I read much 
on the subject to little advantage, and at last 
laid it aside, as an uncertainty which 1 would 
perhaps know more about afterwards. I was 
told that two things were necessary to fit us 
for the Communion, viz : " a gracious state, 
and a gracious frame" — that it was not enough 
to have grace in the cold habit ; but that it 
must be brought into lively exercise. 

With regard to the first, I carefully examin- 



54 



THE HISTORY 0? 



ed " Guthrie's Trial of a Saving Interest" — 
aild found different exercises applied to differ- 
ent descriptions of characters. That to those 
who had the advantages of a religious educa- 
tion ; early instruction, and were moral in 
their lives ; the change was generally more 
gradual, and less perceptible than in the 
more igiforant or profligate characters ; and 
that such were more apt afterwards to call 
their religion in question. This characteris- 
tic description seemed to fit me very well, 
except in one particular. 

I was not conscious of having experienced 
a thorough change in any period of my life. 
But in this my author helped me out by 
saying, that in some, the change was so early, 
that they might be said with Jeremiah or 
John the Baptist, to be sanctified from the 
birth. 1 concluded therefore that this must 
be the case with me. 

I mention this, not to reproach the author, but 
to show how the best things may be abused by 
men of corrupt minds; as I made no better 
use of some parts even of the sacred Scrip- 



JOHN BAr.K. 



35 



tures, particularly Romans x. 9, and 13, I 
thought I could confess with my mouth, and 
believe in my heart. I had no doubt of it. 
And as to calling on the name of the Lord, 
it was my daily practice — and so I claimed the 
promise. 

But another and greater difficulty still re- 
gained. S 

Although 1 could persuade myself that I 
had grace in the cold habit, yet certain I was, 
that I had it not in lively exercise. This, 
however, I hoped to obtain in due time. 

In this state, what is called the preparation 
week, found mc. Hoping still that if not 
before, at the last extremity my necessity 
would so powerfully plead for me, that I 
should then obtain the so much wished for 
promise, the week went round till Satur- 
day, without any apparent change in my mind 
for the better. 1 thought rather that I got 
more hard and stupid, and was not without 
some fearful apprehensions that all was not 
well at the bottom. 

In the evening Mr. Harris called the young 



36 



THE HISTORY OF 



people together to receive their tokens. I 
took one with little expectation of using it. 
Mr. Harris, as he handed the tokens round, 
spoke a few words that affected me more 
than all the sermons I had heard for half a 
year. The words were these : " I give you 
these tokens, not knowing your hearts. May 
the Lo^ give you a token for good at his 
table to-morrow." My heart said Amen, to 
the last clause. 

As to the first, I thought if he had known 
my heart, I should have had no token from 
him at that time. 

In the evening I retired alone, resolving to 
spend the whole night in prayer. 1 was now 
come to what I supposed the last extremity ; 
when it might be expected that every power 
of body and mind would be exerted to do 
the utmost that could be effected by human 
effort. How great was my disappointment! 
I here learned a lesson I had never been 
taught before. I always thought that I could 
do something for myself if brought to the 
pinch of dire necessity. And now I learned 



JOHN BARE. 



37 



the amount of what I could do — the sum total 
was NOTHING. It seemed to me that I could 
scarcely speak three words of common sense, 
or fix my attention to what I was saying for 
one moment. When I found that I could do 
nothing, I changed my resolution of sitting 
up all night, and about midnight werf|to rest. 
Next morning I was up early, and Iff retire- 
ment found a little liberty and enlargement : 
from which I took some encouragement ; I 
thought it was a good omen. If I am not 
mistaken, some change at this time took 
place in my view^s and exercises from what 
I had learned the evening before. Till then, 
I had always entertained the thought that I 
could do something towards my own salva- 
tion. I knew that I had never yet exerted 
myself to the utmost; but if necessity re- 
quired it, every power I possessed would be 
roused to activity and exertion. O, how T 
would pray! kow " I would order my cause 
before him and fill my mouth w^ith argu- 
ments !" 

Or if I should fail here, my distress would 
plead for me in language louder than words. 



THE HISTORY OF 



But I had learned that this Avas all mere illu- 
sion, and that I could do nothing that would, 
in the smallest degree, entitle me to the 
favour or fiiendship of an offended Judge. 1 
gave up therefore my legal hopes, and new 
frames and feelings were all in all. This 
chang^mounted then to no more than from 
one species of hypocrisy to another. If I 
could only get my heart affected with dirine 
things, my object was gained. I rested there 
satisfied. This I found I could best manage 
alone ; and though I miight have had good 
company, f chose to ride that morning all 
the way to the meeting alone. I was in hopes 
of being well prepared when I got there, by 
taking with me a good frame. I called up 
every consideration I could think of to excite 
tender emotions in ray mind, and gained my 
object. I believe I wept almost the whole 
way. 

When I got there and began to mix among 
the crowd, a variety of objects took my atten- 
tion, and presently I found my frame was 
gone. Tliis distressed me so much that 1 
could pay but little attention to the forenoon 



JOHN BARE. 



89 



sermon. The time was coming round apace, 
when I must take a decided part, either stay 
back or go forward. 1 know of no words that 
can fully express the distress and anxiety of 
my mind. I knew not what to do. At last 
I thought of an encouragement that had been 
given by Mr. Robert Smith, of Pequea, on a 
similar occasion. Seeing people ^rdy in 
coming forward, he addressed them in these 
words: -^What are you waiting for? you are 
waiting for a frame — come to Christ for one." 
This seemed precisely to suit my case ; not 
knowing or considering that to come to Christ 
and to come to his table in an unprepared 
state, were two very d Afferent things. 

However, when the conflict within had 
lasted as long as time would admit, I went 
forward trembling. On sitting down, I met 
v^ith something to which 1 can give no name, 
except 1 should call it a glow of animal na- 
ture. It appeared like a pleasant perfume 
diffusing itself through my whole body. For 
a moment I lost sight of every object around 
me : I seemed as if I were on Mount Tabor, 
or in a field that the Lord hath blest." In 



40 THE HISTORY OF 

shorty I thought it was Christ's table of a 
truth, and he was come to welcome me there. 
While I was in this pleasing dream, one of 
the elders came along lifting the tokens. I 
had been so careful of mine as to put it into 
a little pocket book that had a division in it : 
and that I might have no difficulty in finding 
it, ha(r taken the precaution to mark in my 
memory the place I had put it. On feeling 
for my token I could not find it ; and being 
very certain that I could not have lost it, I 
knew of no way it could have gotten out, ex- 
cept it had been removed by an invisible 
hand ; and if so, it was proof presumptive that 
1 was not worthy of it. I found it at last in 
the other side ; the bottom of the division leaf 
was open, which I had not perceived, and the 
token had slipped through. 
, So small a matter as this, was quite suffi- 
cient to disconcert and throw my mind into 
confusion ; so that all my skill was not suffi- 
cient to reduce it again to order, through the 
exercises of the whole day. 

After returning home, I took a longer even- 
ing walk than usual, reflecting on my situa- 



JOHN BARK. 



41 



tion, and at last came to this conclusion, that 
all was wrong with me; that I was nothing^ 
more than a splendid hypocrite, blinded by 
self-flattery. And to this was attached the 
cutting thought and reflection, that to all my 
other sins, I had added that day, the sin of 
communicating unworthily* I felt shame and 
remorse to a degree I had never before ex- 
perienced. I sometimes thought my head and 
heart should have broken while I tried to sup- 
press my inward anguish, till at length I was 
made bitterly to cry out. I returned home 
late at night, more calm, being rather ex- 
hausted than relieved. 

Thus I continued in a sad and disconsa* 
late state for two weeks. 



42 



THE HISTORY Of 



CHAPTER IV. 

On the second Sabbath after the Commir- 
nion, M.. Harris had an appointment in a 
neighbouring congregation. In the morning, 
I was more than ordinarily disturbed in mind : 
I could get no rest. After breakfast I took 
Willison's Sacramental Catechism in my hand 
and went out. I knew that there were many 
cases of conscience in it, and did not know 
but I might meet with something applicable 
to my case. I sat down to read ; but found I 
could not keep my eye upon the book : and 
far less fix my attention to any thing in it. I 
closed the book and laid it down beside me ; 
while in a kind of melancholy musing, these 
words frequently arrested my attention: "What 
will you do in the day of your visitation? To 
whom will you flee for help? Where will 
you leave your glory ?" Ah ! to flee ! I could 
not tell where to flee ! I once thought of 
going to a pious neighbour for advice, but I 



-4 



JOHN RARR. 



43 



thought again, vain is the fielp of man" — 
they would be all physicians of no value." 
I might go to men, 1 might go to books ; they 
would all give me the same,, or a similar an- 
swer to that of Joseph to Pharaoh, It is not 
in me, God shall give Pharaoh an answer of 
peace." I must go to God, with w horn alone 
I have to do. 

Here my situation became more serious. 
My former refuges all failed me, and proved 
to be no better than refuges of lies. I saw 
that my best duties were of no more account 
to secure the favour and friendship of God, than 
my sins ; and that the united efforts of all the 
men upon earth, and angels in heaven, could 
do me but little service. 

Thus despairing of relief from any other 
quarter, I had no alternative, but must go to 
that God whose law condemned me ; and 
M'hose justice demanded nothing less than my 
eternal punishment. My imagination pre- 
sented to my mind the following picture : 
That I was as if under a great mountain 
which hung over me. I saw the justice of 
God like huge massy rocks hanging loose 



44 



THE HISTORY OF 



over my head, suspended upon nothing that 1 
could see, sufficient to prevent their fall — 
when at the same time I knew that I deserved 
to be crushed to pieces ; and that one small 
stone would be fully sufficient for that pur- 
pose ; whilst I was unable to move one step 
for my own safety. I recollect once with an 
audible vehemence to have expressed, from 
the very bottom of my heart, these words: 
Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" 1 
wondered that I was alive ; and believe that 
this thought alone, that I was alive, for some 
time supported me. I reasoned like Manoah's 
wife, ''that if God were pleased to kill me, 
he would not have borne with me so long ; 
nor would he have suffered me to profane his 
holy ordinance ; the recollection of which lay 
heavy on my mind." He might yet have 
thought of mercy towards me, but how it 
could be exercised consistent with his justice^ 
1 was totally at a loss to comprehend. I 
thought if I were sent to hell, I could justify 
God in my condemnation, and for ever say, 
righteousness belongeth unto thee ; but unto 
me shame and confusion of face." And fur- 



JOJIN BARR. 



45 



ther I thought that if it was possible for a sin- 
ner in hell to love God, I would love him. 

The awful views I at first had of wrath and 
danger, gradually gave way to views of some- 
thing amiable in the divine character; and a 
kind of trust, though I know of no founda- 
tion on which it rested, except it was on the 
mere mercy of God. I frequently thought of 
the resolution of Job, " Though he slay me, yet 
will I trust in him and tried to make it my 
own. I do not know that I was ever willing 
to go to hell. If I was, it was with the mis- 
taken view that I could love, honour and pro- 
mote the glory of God there. But this I re- 
member well, that my sinfulness and insigni- 
ficance made the mere matter of suffering ap- 
pear to be comparatively a little thing, if the 
glory of God could, by it, be any way promo- 
ted. I knew that God could glorify his justice 
in my eternalcondemnation ; but O, I thought, 
if there were any way that I could be saved, 
his mercy would shine gloriously in my sal- 
vation. J 

There is on! thiil^j^iat I have since won- 
dered at, perhaps a thousand times, that in all 
d2 



45 



THE HISTORY OF 



this time, which 1 suppose was about three 
hours, I do not recollect to liave had one 
thought about Jesus Christ as a mediator be- 
tween God and man^ but seemed still to have 
to deal with God as an absolute God ; though 
I had been doctrinally taught, and knew well 
the theory of the way of salvation ; but the 
practical view of it so as to apply it to my own 
case, never entered my mind, till I was driven 
on almost to despair. 

While under great depression of spirits, 
looking every way for relief, or like a drown- 
ing man, catching at every stick or straw, 
these words came into, or rather seemed to 
dart across my mind, " Jesus Christ the same 
yesterday and to-day and for ever," and gave 
a new spring to every power of my exhausted 
mind. I presently recollected what I believe 
I had somewhere read before, that Jesus 
Christ, while on earth, never |mt any away 
that came to him begging for mei€y ; and that 
in his glorified state, he retained the same 
bowels of compassion and te^pW mercy. I 
thought of the lepers iiH^ ga^^ of Samaria, 
who said " Why sit v^bere until we die 



JOHN BARH. 



47 



Let us face unto the host of the Syrians, 
and if they save us alive, we shall live ; and 
if they kill us we shall but die." I thought 
of Esther's resolution to go in unto the king, 
though contrary to the law and at the hazard 
of her life ; and how well both succeeded. 

I formed the resolution of casting my guilty 
soul at the feet of Christ, and if I perished, I 
would perish at his feet. This resolution 
was no sooner formed, than I endeavoured to 
put it in practice. I saw a suitableness in 
the Saviour to me before unknown, to an- 
swer all my soul's necessities. T saw in him 
every thing I wanted ; and in him I found 
rest for my weary soul with peace and joy in 
believing. 

And though it is now more than forty 
years, I think I could go to the tree, if yet 
standing, (thejj^ only a sapling) at which I 
stood, and like a penitent, confessed my sins, 
and saw the fountain opened for sin and 
uncleanness," freely flowing to remove my 
guilt and wasfi away my pollution. 

It was now SboilP^l^n ; my darkness was 
turned to day. Never was there more differ- 



48 



THE HISTORY OF 



€nce between midnight darkness and noon- 
day, than was between that morning and af- 
ternoon. I thought I knew^ before what be- 
lieving was ; but now I knew in " whom I be- 
lieved, and w^as persuaded that he was able to 
keep that which I had committed to him 
against that day." Although my joy w^as far 
from that height of rapture and ecstacy, that 
I have in many instances since witnessed ; 
yet it was more permanent, and continued 
uninterrupted for weeks, perhaps I might say 
for months ; that it would have been as diffi- 
cult for me to have doubted, as it was before 
to believe. It seemed as if I had gotten into 
a new world, and had new views and appre- 
hensions of myself, and almost every thing 
around me — of God, of the world, of sin, of 
holiness, of time, of eternity, of the savour 
of sinners, and of the institutions of his grace. 
My feelings took my attention less than the 
objects that occasioned them. 

It was not then, as it has been since, cus- 
tomary for young people to converse familiar- 
ly on their religious ^pK^nce : 1 therefore 
kept all my feelings ^nyself, except what 



JOHN BAKR. 



49 



might be visible in my countenance, in which, 
before, might have been read the marks of 
dejection or df^spair, but was now, with Han- 
nah's, " no more sad." I then felt the force 
and propriety of one of Solomon's proverbs, 
"The heart knoweth his own bitterness; and 
a stranger doth not intermeddle with his 
joys." 



50 



THE IflSTORY OF 



CHAPTER Y. 

It was not long, however, till the arch ad- 
versary made for once an unsuccessful attack 
upon my peace ; the suggestion was plausible, 

Now you are a believer, and once in Christ, 
still in Christ. You are now out of danger, 
there is now no occasion for so much pain- 
fulness in duties. Less praying and time 
spent in meditation, will now answer your 
purpose. Besides, you are now in the vigor 
of youth, and prime of life, you may lawfully 
indulge in the innocent pleasures of your age. 
Religion was never intended to lessen, but 
rather to increase the pleasures of mankind. 
Your seriousness would much better befit the 
age of sixty, except you mean to dev6ti^^ 
yourself to the life of a hermit, or to spend 
the remainder of your days in a gloister." 

How much truth soever there might have 
been in these suggestions, yet from this single 
specimen, I have drawn a proof sufficient to 



JOHN BARE. 



5i 



satisfy me, that Satan does not always know 
the inward exercises of our minds, or he 
would time his temptations in some instances 
better. When these suggestions were pre- 
sented to my mind, I had learned to know 
something about being dead to the world, by 
the cross of Christ, and sensual baits had no 
more influence upon me than the passing 
wind. And as to restraining prayer, and 
taking less time for meditation, it might just 
as well have been suggested to me when hun- 
gry, that I need not be at the trouble of eat- 
ing; or when thirsty, that it was too much 
trouble to take the cooling draught. For in 
short, my meat and my drink seemed to be, 
to do the will of my heavenly Father. 

But alas ! my corruptions, that I thought 
were all dead, revived again ; and I found 
evil enough within me, without any other 
tempter, to prompt me on to the commission 
of sin and neglect of duty. I soon found that 
when left to myself, I was a poor, weak, 
wicked, and helpless creature ; but it was 
long before I could learn to trust in that grace 
which was alone suflicient for me, and that 



02 THE HISTORY OF 

strength by which alone I was able to stand. 
My unbelief and misgiving fears prevailed 
against my weak faith, and not unfrequently 
the foundation of my hope was called in ques- 
tion. And I believe I should sometimes have 
fainted, had it not been for the goodness of 
the Lord in giving me some reviving cordials, 
that cheered my drooping spirits. 

When we had no sermon, I usually spent 
my Sabbaths alone in some retired place. 
This I found to be attended with its advan- 
tages, according to the state of my mind. When 
my mind had gotten a right bent or direction, 
its exercises were more free and uninterrupt- 
ed ; but this was not always the case. 

However easily I could get rid of company, 
1 could not always get rid of myself: vain 
thoughts still lodged within me, and would be 
breaking out on every occasion. I seemed 
like the young Median that thought he had 
two souls, one disposed to good, the other in- 
clined to evil, and each seemed to aim at no- 
thing less than the destruction of the other. 
The contest between these two contending 
powers, made my heart literally the seat of 



JOHN BARR. 



58 



war, and Israel and Amalek prevailed by 
turns ; so that some Sabbaths were far from 
being days of rest, and might more properly 
be called days of conflict. 

One morning, on going out, I was grieved to 
think how I had spent some preceding Sab- 
baths ; and knowing that I carried with me 
the same deceitful treacherous heart, I could 
have no security that that day would be spent 
any better. O, how happy I thought 1 should 
be to spend but one day in communion and 
fellowship with God, without interruption 
from vain, wandering and wicked thoughts ; 
and I knew of nothing to hinder but the 
wickedness of my own heart, that was ever 
like the sons of Zemiah with David, " too hard 
for me." 

Whilst musing as I walked along, on the 
ungovernable madness of my heart, these 
words came with impressive force into my 
mind : " Son, give me thine heart." My 
heart promptly replied with the aid of my 
voice, " Lord, take my heart to thee ; let it be 
thine this day, and thine for ever — the day is 
thine, may the work be thine — Let no vain 

E 



54 



THE HISTOKY OF 



thought intrude upon these sacred hours." 1 
presently felt a calm and composure of mind 
to me unknown for some time before. 

I had Flavel's sixth volume, which treats 
on Husbandry and Navigation Spiritualized ; 
and after committing myself to God for the 
day, I sat down to read. The place I opened 
upon, was on the union of the graft with the 
stock : I read with pleasure, and I think with 
profit. No vain thoughts troubled me. 

A short poem on this subject I read several" 
times over ; and it seemed to me that I could 
have read it a hundred times, and still have 
seen in it something nev/. I soon committed 
it to memory, after which my book was of 
little further service to me. The verse that 
most attracted my attention, was this 

" As long as e'er the root doth live, 

The brandies are not dry ; 
While Christ hath grace and life to give, 

My soai can never die." 

My thoughts and affections rose like the 
waters in Ezekiel's vision, till I lost sight of 
this earth ; and for some time I thought no 



JOHN RARR. 



55 



more about it, or any thing it contained, than 
if 1 had not been an inhabitant. I recollect 
once of giving a transient glance to this 
world, which appeared like a dusky shade, or 
no better than dust and ashes, when compared 
with the upper world. 

Happening to fix my eyes upon the body of 
the sun, I was surprised at the speed it had 
made. It was near two o'clock, our usual 
time for dinner, when I would not have 
thought that I had been there more than half 
an hour. A small conflict arose in my mind 
about going home ; I was loath to leave my 
sweet retreat , and felt no disposition for 
eating ; but fearing that my absence would oc- 
casion some anxiety in the family, I thought 
that perhaps it was my duty upon their ac- 
count, to go; though, for myself, I had much 
rather staid where I was. 1 set off for home ; 
but hesitated and halted several times. The 
words of the Psalmist (Ps. 94,) I thought 1 
could use with self-application, " in the mul- 
titude of my thoughts within me, his comforts 
delight my soul." O how glad I would have 
been to have had some secret place where I 



56 



THE HISTORY OF 



would have met with no interruption all the 
day. But the thoughts of giving uneasiness 
to the family finally prevailed, and I went 
home ; but it was no home to me, I recollect 
nothing of what passed there ; and it seemed 
as if my heart did not go with me. 

I soon returned, but with this disadvantage ; 
that it did not appear to me to be the same 
place. It was neither a Bethel nor a Peniel. 
Nothing but common woods. I tried to real- 
ize the beauties I had seen in my poem ; but 
they were all gone. I could see no more in 
it than in the rest of the book, and it all ap- 
peared to be little more than a blank. Thus 
situated, the afternoon appeared as much 
longer than usual, as the forenoon was shorter ; 
the greater part of which, 1 believe, I was on 
my knees. 

It was in the season of feeding cattle : and 
though I did not then attend to that business 
on w^eek days, I usually assisted on the Sab- 
bath. Observing that the sun was sinking 
down, and that it would soon be time for 
that business to commence, I knew not how 
I could leave the place without some token of 
the Divine presence with me. 



JOHN BARR, 



57 



I resolved to try what supplicating the 
throne of grace once more would do. The 
result was, I thought no more of feeding cattle 
till it was dark. 

This I consider as one of my high days. 
And such indeed it might have been to me, if 
I had known how to improve it. I know that 
these were signal manifestations and commu- 
nications of Divine grace ; and I know also 
that " where much is given, much will be re- 
quired," and that I have been far from ren- 
dering according to the benefit received. 
When I reflect upon my poor unprofitable 
life, shame and confusion of face may cover 
me. It is said of Solomon, that " the Lord 
*was angry with him because his heart was 
turned from the Lord God of Israel, which had 
appeared to him twice." 

I am well aware that these and such like 
exercises will, by the gay world, be accounted 
enthusiastic and delusive. To this I at pre- 
sent feel no disposition to make any other re- 
ply, than that " I could wish to be always thus 
enthusiastic," while at the same time I am 
prepared not to wonder at the world's mis- 
E 2 



58 



THE HISTORY OF 



taken notion, when I recollect that he who 
was the subject of these exercises, and who, 
more than all others, might be supposed to 
have a fair opportunity of knowing their 
truth and reality, once formed an opinion of 
them not much more to their advantage ; and 
even more than once doubted the genuine- 
ness of their source. If it should be asked 
how this was brought about, I answer, by 
what is but too common to all, more espe- 
cially to young Christians ; I mean paying too 
great a compliment to religious feelings. 
"Forsaking the fountain of living waters," 
and following the dying stream till it dries 
up: like the sportive fish that can glide and 
play down the current while it has a sufficient 
depth of water ; but when that fails, is found 
gasping and dying, and can never return 
without a fresh supply. 

However useful and ornamental such ex- 
ercises may be in the superstructure, they are 
by no means fit materials for the foundation ; 
" For other foundation can no man lay 
than that is laid, wiiich is Jesus Christ." 



JOHN BAKR. 



59 



We have a more sure word of prophesy unto 
which we do well to take heed." 

" Faith has lor its foundation broad, 

A stable rock on which I stand 
The truth and faithfuhiess of God^ 

All other grounds are sinking sand. 

" The oath and promise of the Lord, 
Join to confii'm the wondrous grace, 

Eternal jx)wer performs the word, 
And fills all heav'n with endless praise." 

Upon the whole, when I take a retrospec- 
tive view of my past life, I can say nothing 
less than this, " goodness and mercy have 
followed me.'' 

1 know I have not been exempt from trials : 
and I know also that God is faithful, who has 
not suffered me to be tried above what he 
gave me strength to bear, and has also with 
the trial made a way of escape. 

One thing on this subject may appear a 
paradox to many ; that is, that the days of my 
greatest trials I reckon among the most com- 
fortable days that I have spent upon earth. 
So that upon the whole, I can say, that I 
have never been a great sufferer, though al- 



60 



THE HISTORY OF 



ways a great sinner." I speak not now ef 
gross out-breakings ; but an inward aliena- 
tion of heart from God. My backslidings have 
been many,, I have much to lament; but de- 
sire to be eternal debtor to that grace that 
has so often restored my wandering soul. 
Thus, " having obtained help of God, I con- 
tinue to this day,'' hoping and trusting that 
the blood of Christ that clean seth from all 
sin, will still continue to cleanse, and at last 
present me without spot, before his Father's 
throne, where I shall see his face and sing his 
praisoj world without end. Amen. 



JOHN BARK. 



61 



Having finished what I intended by way of 
Narrative, I shall now, in the folfc of Appen- 
dix, make some observations in Subservience 
to my main design ; which was, to give my 
feeble testimony to the truth of the doctrine 
of salvation by grace, and operations of the 
Holy Spirit in the conviction and renovation 
of the human heart. If a general view of 
what I have written, gives no evidence of the 
truth of these doctrines, I should almost des- 
pair of success in making any comment upon 
it. I shall however notice a few particulars, 
which, not admitting a divine agency in 
changing the heart, and the invincibleness of 
divine grace, are to me altogether inexpli- 
cable. 

If it should be asked, why I have selected 
the doctrines of salvation by grace, and ope- 
rations of the Holy Spirit, out of several 
others, so nearly related to them, such 'as, ^ 

our lost state by nature ; the imputation of 
Christ's righteousness," &c. — they being all 
doctrines of the reformation ; I answer, be- 



62 



THE HISTORY OF 



cause I believe them to, be all doctrines of the 
Scriptures as well as of the reformation, and 
so nearly related, that they cannot be easily 
separated. But in placing these two doc- 
trines together, I would not wish to be under- 
stood to think them of equal importance ; or 
rather that the rejection or denial of them 
would be attended with equal danger. Al- 
though they are nearly connected, and seem 
both to lie at the very foundation of my hope, 
yet I can more easily conceive of the possi- 
bility of salvation, in the denial of the fulness 
and sovereignty of grace, (though I confess I 
do not understand it) than in the denial of 
the operations of the Spirit ; which is a pro- 
minent characteristic trait of an inndel. 

As to the former, a quotation from Dr» 
Witherspoon, in his Essay on Justification, 
(vol. I p. 80,) will express my thoughts 
fully, and with w^hich, I will dismiss the sub- 
ject. — " If the righteousness of Christ is the 
only ground of our justification, I do not see 
how we can avoid concluding the danger of 
those who are upon any other plan. And yet 
I am persuaded there have been, and are 



JOHN BARR. 63 

many good men among them : which may be 
accounted for in this manner, that their hearts 
are better than their understandings ; and 
they are habitually under the government of 
principles which, through some mistaken 
views and groundless fears of their abuse 
they speak of more sparingly, or rather seem 
to establish the contrary positions. The proof 
of this I take from their writings, particu- 
larly from the difference between their ser- 
mons and other discourses, and their forms of 
prayer which they have drawn up, and not 
only recommended to others, but left behind 
them as a witness of their own exercise in 
their closets. If they be supposed to feel 
the sentiments which they express in their 
prayers, it can easily be made appear that 
these sentiments can only be dictated by the 
doctrine of free grace. If what they say of 
themselves be true in its natural and obvious 
meaning, and if they believe it, which cha- 
rity obliges us to suppose, it must be alto- 
gether in vain to lay the least stress upon 
their own righteousness for their acceptance 
with God." 



64 



THE HISTORY OF 



I shall now conclude with a few remarks 
on reading the Scriptures in family worship. 

Soon after I was entrusted with the charge 
of a family, it was recommended to me, by 
one whose judgment I had reason to respect, 
as the most expedient method of reading the 
Scriptures in family worship, to read them in 
order: that is to say, a portion out of the 
New Testament in the morning, and out of 
the Old at night. 

This arrangement was thought best on ac- 
count that the Old Testament contained a 
greater number and variety of historical facts, 
which would be most likely to engage the 
attention of children, and prevent drowsiness, 
which might otherwise be too ready to steal 
in after the active duties and fatigues of the 
day. The only objection I had against this 
proposal was, that the Old Testament would 
take the same proportion of time and atten- 
tion with the New, when I thought the latter 
ought, on some accounts, to have greatly the 
preference. This objection, however, was in 
a great measure removed, when 1 found, by 
actual experiioent, that when not much in» 



JOHN BARR. 



65 



lerrupted by sickness, absence, or otherwise, 
and by sometimes reading two chapters to- 
gether, when connected, and not too long, I 
could read the whole of the New Testament 
in less than eight months ; when the Old Tes- 
tament, under like circumstances, required 
little less than two years. The proportion of 
time then was about three to one ; that is, 
observing this order, I could read the New 
Testament three times for once that I could 
read the Old. 

I cannot help being surprised and ashamed 
too, to think how often I must have read the 
Scriptures, and how very small my know- 
ledge of them continues to be. I suppose, 
upon a very moderate calculation, which I 
must certainly have exceeded, I have read 
the New Testament once every year, and the 
Old Testament once every three years, for 
thirty-nine years past, which is as much as to 
say, that I have read the New Testament 
thirty-ni^ times, and the Old Testament 
thirteen times over. 

By an attentive reader, it might be expect- 

F 



66 



THE HISTORY OF 



ed by this time, that the New Testament 
at least would have been all committed to 
memory. This is so far from being the case, 
that I believe I scarcely ever read either of 
them over without finding something that I 
never knew or noticed before. And I am 
rather inclined to think that this would be 
the case, were I to live and read on to the 
ageof Methuseleh. There is no book which will 
stand reading, without weariness, like the 
Bible. I suppose I should long since have 
been tired of reading so much in any other 
book. But instead of this, I find my taste 
and relish for the Scriptures greatly increas- 
ed, since I first began to read them. So that 
I can join my hearty assent to the following 
verse, with which I v/ill come to a close : 

" Thy Word is everlasting truth, 

How pure is every page ! 
That holy book shall guide our youth, 

And will support our age." 



This brief memoir is now made public, in 
tl^ belief that it will be read with interest, 
and attended with the blessing of God. 



JOHN BART?. 



67 



MR. BARR'S NOTE. 

At the close of the preceding " Narrative,'^ 
is found the following note : 

" After writing the above, I was favoured 
with a manuscript containing the religious 
experience of John McCorkle. And having 
obtained leave to transcribe it, I purpose to 
copy it off on a separate paper, and earnestly 
recommend the perusal of it to all who may 
think what I have written worthy of their 
consideration." 



^ THE 

RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 

OP 

JOHN McCORKLE, 

IN A 

SERIES OF SHORT LETTEfiS TO A FRIEND. 
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 



John McCorkle, Esq. brother to Rev. 
Samuel E. McCorkle, D. D., for many years a 
distinguished minister of the Presbyterian 
Church, in North Carolina, lived ii||the same 
neighbourhood with Mr. Barr, an(ijparried his 
sister. 

Though he has now been dead for more 
than thirty years, his memory, as a magistrate, 
a /ieighbour, an intelligent counsellor, and 
devoted Christian, is still precious to those 
who knew him. 

The following letters, containing his religious 
experience, were addressed to Miss Martha 
Andrews, (now Mrs. King, of Iredell county. 
North Carolina,) who told me a few w^eeks 
since, that she still possessed the original 
manuscripts. The last was written but a few 
months before Mr. McCorkle's^^^pWi. He 
died August 26, 1800, aged fifty years. S. 

Doylestown, Fa,, Jan, 18, 1833. 



RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE, &c. ' 



No. 1. 




December 5th^ 1799, 



In compliance with your request, and my 
promise, I propose to tell you, that as early in 
life as I can well remember, I was convinced 
that I was a sinner, and dying so, I musti)e 
damned ; and this belief grew up with me^I 
believed 1 had no religion ; my convictions at 
the age of perhaps fifteen, or thereabouts, 
were sometimes strong by turns. A prospect 
of death, an alarming book or sermon, gene- 
rally gave an additional spring to duty ; such 
as reading and prayer. Sometimes I would 
go mourning for days, weeks, and months 
together.^ My convictions or uneasiness arose, 
not from a charge of any particular sin or 
sins, but from a want of religion ; and though 
I had warm exercises, and often in prayer such 
views or clear sense of the value of God's 



72 



RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 



.fav^l^ and divine things communicable 
through a Redeemer, that I wished all the 
world might see and feel as I then did, and 
would at the time be almost persuaded to 
belieSVe I had religion ,* yet I had, like Thomas, 
formed a resolution, that without a manifesta- 
tion beyond alL^ontradiction, I would not be- 
lieve, for fear I should rest shortly" true re^ 
ligion. 



December I2th, 1799. 

I before told you I had formed a resolution 
that I would not believe I had religion, with- 
out a manifestation beyond dispute. And 
though I was more hopeful when quickened, 
(and Sacramental occasions had this effect,) 
yet they were awful occasions to me ; for I 
considered myself under a fatal necessity of 
sinning, either by coming unprepared, or 
slighting the ordinance by staying back. 

I often secretly wished, on the approach of 
such occasions, that Providence would so 



OF JOHN M^OORKLE. 




order it, that I might not be permitted i^jf^t- 
tend. Not that I wished to shun conviction, 
for I always sought more and deeper convic- 
tion ; but for the reason above, of being ne- 
cessitated to sin, either by coming unprepared, 
or slighting the ordinance. 

Thus I continued, sometimes more and 
sometimes less engaged about my salvation, 
but never wholly at ease;^and still seeking 
more conviction and stronger exercises of 
fear. And though at sometimes I had pleas- 
ing views of the grace of God to sinners, yet I 
never could or would permit myself to be- 
lieve I had any interest in that salvation. 
These views too were short, nor had they 
any permanent influence. 



I continued in the situation before men- 
tioned, until about the age of twenty-two years, 
when I attended a Sacramental occasion, with 



No. 3. 



December Idth, 1799. 



74 RELIGIOUS EXPEKIENCE 

soi]|Bthing more than usual anxiety of mind. 
I durst not come forward, and was afraid to 
stay away. On Sunday evening I w^as in a 
state of distress almost to an agony. I spent 
the evening wrestling with God in prayer, 
and the night in sighs and groans. I was up 
long before the family where I lodged arose. 
Spent the morning as the evening, in earnest 
wrestling with God, to show me his salvation 
upon any terms he pleased. I thought I was 
willing to do or suffer any thing for Jesus 
Christ. I v/as granted great liberty in plead- 
ing with God, whom I could never call my 
God. 

When I expected the family would be call- 
ed to breakfast, I attended, something more 
composed; though determined not to take 
comfort. However, I was calmed into a new 
and strange peace, or rather quiet ; my mind 
seemed to.be swallowed up in a love which I 
had never felt before. I do not know that my 
love centred" immediately on God or Christ ; 
but I loved all the human race, and indeed 
every thing that God had made. And though 
I did not believe my happiness secure, yet I 



OF JOHN M'CORKLE. 



7a 



could not feel distress. Gommon conversa- 
tion had no relish with me. I shunned so- 
ciety ; and when obliged to mix with man- 
kind I was not happy. In this strange and 
new state, I continued for some time ; but it 
declined by degrees and left me as before. 



* No. 4. 

January Ath, 1800. 

I have told you in No. 3, that I had got 
back into my former state, after an experi- 
ence of a strange kind of love and serenity of 
mind, out of conceit of the world, and pleas- 
ed with the contemplation of spiritual things. 
In this state of fear, and seeking for fear, that 
I might be quickened in duty, I continued 
without any material alteration till about the 
age of twenty-six, when I was visited with 
sickness, and brought, as I thought, within a 
few moments of eternity. I then cried out, 
that I must be lost ; time for change, or the 
offers of grade were then at an end, and I had no 



* 76 RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 

hope* I tried to believe, but could not I 
tried to view Jesus as a Saviour, but could not : 
He appeared as one nigh me, but behind a 
veil or curtain. A godly neighbour^ stood 
by my bed-side. She urged me to cast 
my soul on Jesus. I told her I could not see 
him so as to believe. She begged of me to 
try and trust. I despaired of my salvation 
for any thing I could do. l^had tried and 
tried again, in all the earnestness and bitter- 
ness of my soul to believe ; but all in vain. 
When she told me to try and trust, I as it 
were, let go all hope in myself, and said, " if 
I perish, I perish." But, my young friend, the 
change, the transition that then took place, 
no images that I can use can sufficiently re- 
present. 



No. 5. 

January Wth^ 1800. 

I have informed you that no images I could 
draw, can fully represent the view and change 



* Mrs. Martha Andrews. 



OF JOHN M^CORKLE. 



79 



I experienced on giving up my own efforts 
to believe of nnyself. Jesus no more appear, 
ed behind a veil ; but full to the eye of my 
mind : as full and certain as ever the sun in 
the heavens did to my natural eyes. I saw 
him an able, a suitable, and altogether willing 
Saviour. I saw the plan of salvation bringing 
such additional glory to God, and happiness 
to man, that I felt satisfied that man had 
fallen. I felt such a transcendent love to 
God, and his image and people, that the 
greatest degree of love I had ever felt for any 
person, heightened with natural or conjugal 
affection, was no more than a drop to the 
ocean. I thought I felt the image of God im- 
pressed on my soul ; and the transport was so 
great that I forgot my pain of, and care for, 
the body. Nor did I wish to stay in the body ; 
though I felt happy, yet I desired to be stili 
more happy. I thought if I must be restored 
to health, I could scarcely ever sin anymore ; 
but could spend and be spent for, and in the 
service of the immaculate Jesus. I thought 
this was the constant view and temper of 
mind of God's children ; and I had but little 

G 



80 



RELIGIorS EXPEKIEXGE 



charity, for I thought surely there were but 
few saints of my acquaintance. 

When I was urged to take rest in sleep, 
and felt drowsy, 1 grieved at the loss of so 
much precious time. I wished never to cease 
from telling how glorious a person Jesus was, 
and how excellent was his Gospel. In a 
word, I was sure of salvation — loved God, 
Christ, and his people to an ecstacy — delight- 
ed in praise, and still had room for growing 
love and increasing praise to all eternity : and 
thought sin, both in its power and conse- 
quences was quite done away ; so foolish and 
inexperienced was I ; and had I then been 
taken to heaven, would have known but little 
of the wretched depravity of my nature. 



No. 6. 

January ISih, 1800. 

My last number left me on the Mount : now 
I must come down. After I had viewed and 
gazed on my Saviour, I foolishly began to 
turn my fancy on myself, 1 know it now, 



OF JOHN M^CORKLE. 



81 



though I did not see it then, that spiritual 
pride began to work. I thoiight I had got a 
stock of niy own ; that I was, or would be an 
eminent Christian here, and a fit companion 
for Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the other 
world; and even comely enough for Jesus. 
Not knowing or considering that if I had any 
comeliness at all, it was the gracious loan of 
Christ, and not my own. 

This being the turn my mind now took, 
you can easily guess what the consequence 
was : even the withdrawing of the Spirit. I 
found it going, and mourned the loss ; but 
perceived not the cause. However, the Spirit 
by degrees withdrew, and left me in a few 
weeks, or perhaps days, such as I was before, 
with this exception, that I retained a confi- 
dent belief that I was interested in the cove- 
nant of grace, and would not let it go. 



No. 7. 

January 27th, 1800. 

You have just heard that spiritual pride 
had spilt my joyful cup. The Spirit had 



8^ 



RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCfi 



withdrawn, and though not totally at once, 
yet it continued to withdraw by degrees, 
until it was, I believe, as totally gone as ever 
it was to any. I know not that I had any 
symptoms of its influence, except an uneasi- 
ness at times respecting my lifeless state, if 
this might be called the Spirit's work. I had 
no taste for religious conversation ; preaching 
w^as to me, " as sounding brass, or a tinkling 
cymbal the word of God a sealed letter; fa- 
mily devotion a mere formality ; and secret 
prayer no better, and often shamefully ne- 
glected ; and I was destitute even of fear to 
stimulate in, or to duty. In this lifeless state, 
I continued some years ; and had 1 been in the 
former part of my life in the habit of open or 
public vices, I have no reason to doubt but I 
should at this period have fallen into the prac- 
tice of them again. But at length I began at 
times to let go my hope or confidence, which 
I believe arose from a dependence on the ex- 
ercises mentioned before. 

I wished for fear to animate to duty. I 
often tried to despair of my religion ; but in 
vain. However, after some time I became 



OP JOHN M^CORKLE. 



8a 



jealous, and sometimes doubting; until on 
the close of a Sacramental occasion, I lost all 
my hopes, and felt the terrors of the Lord 
to as indescribable a degree as I had enjoyed 
the sweetness of his love before. 



No. 8. 

February 1st, 1800. 

My awful backsliding is yet fresh in my 
mind. I told you that at a Sacramental occa- 
sion I lost my hopes that were excited by my 
former sweet experiences. On the Monday 
evening I left the house of prayer not much 
discomposed ; but ere I reached my own 
house, I was in an agony of distress. 

As I once had heaven and happiness full 
in view, now I had hell and misery as full 
and as certain. I believed all the exercises 
of my former life were only the common 
strivings of God's Spirit ; and that I had re- 
jected and abused them; and that nothing 
now awaited me, but " a certain fearful look- 
g2 



^4 RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 



\tig for of fiery indignation'' from the Lord* 
The punishment demerited by a broken law 
did not seem so intolerable as the guilt of 
slighting the offers of mercy, and trampling 
on the precious blood of Jesus. This was 
the torment of my soul ; I v^^ished I had never 
heard of the Gospel. I wished to be any 
thing but a Gospel despiser ; I even wished 
to be a devil ! Yea I had thoughts of, (or was 
at least tempted to,) plunge myself into hell, 
that I might not add another day of Gospel 
rejections to all that had gone before. 

My young friend, no image that I can think 
of in nature, better represents the state I was 
then in, than the most sudden and awful 
storm of black and tossing clouds, with rain, 
hail, and irresistible wind ; with fiery streams 
of lightning, and peals of thunder in the high- 
est conceivable degree. 



No. 9. 

February 9th, 1800. 
I have given you an account of the terrors 
of the Lord which continued with me in an 



OF JOiJN M'COHKLE. 



85 



awful degree for some days and nights. I 
thought I was in a state of complete despera- 
tion ; but when I took a very narrow or scru- 
tinizing view, I found a thread, an only 
thread of hope remaining. And I believe it 
was maintained or supported by this, that I 
was allowed a remarkable liberty in pouring 
out my soul in prayer, or rather crying to 
God for mercy. 

To my own view of things, had it not 
pleased the Lord to give this, or had 1 been 
shut out at this time as at other times, both 
before and since, I must have been plunged 
into hell on earth, or a state of total despera- 
tion. But so it pleased the Lord to deal 
with me. At length I began to have some 
hope : I recollected that God's people had suf- 
fered the terrors of the Lord after backsliding, 
and L would yet trust in him, and hope to- 
wards his holy place. 

Then I began to prescribe to God ; and 
though I had backslidden from him, and he 
had caused his terrors to pass over, or in me ; 
yet it was his way to his own children after 



86 



RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 



deep distress, to raise to eminent enjoyment. 
But the Lord was pleased herein to disappoint 
me ; for as I had backslidden by degrees, so 
he recovered me, if 1 am recovered at all. 
For though I seldom have a certainty of the 
truth of my religion, nor ever since had such 
clear and pleasing views, as before felt, and 
yet, through his grace, I hope I am going on 
from one degree of strength to another. 



No. 10. 

February Ibth, 1800. 

I have finished my Narrative, and have just 
stated a few plain facts, without remarking 
on them. This I leave you to do : or to assist 
you in remarking on them in an evening's 
conversation, when occasion may serve. You 
will see that to remark as I might have done, 
would have exceeded my time and attention ; 
therefore you will excuse your friend in omit- 
ting so tedious an undertaking. 

In this place you will permit me to state to 
you, as far as I can remember, how it has been 



OF JOHN M'CORKLE. 



87 



with me, with respect to reading, hearing, 
praying, meditation, conversing, attending 
the Lord's Supper, temptation, and also when 
under affliction. 

Beading. — Sometimes the word of God ap- 
pears as a sealed book ; at other times scarce^ 
ly any page or sentence but discovers the 
finger of God, and a spiritual fund. 

Preachings in the former part of my life, 
had almost always a tendency to quicken ; 
especially if the terrors of the Lord were held 
forth ; and I did not much care for the ser- 
mon that was not alarming; but for some 
years past, the sermon that was descriptive of 
the love of God through Jesus Christ, has 
been the most acceptable. 

Prayer. — In my first exercises I delighted 
to dwell on the awful part of God's charac- 
ter : now, on the amiable. Sometimes I at- 
tempt prayer in dulness, and end in life r 
sometimes engage with an expectation of 
liberty, and am shut out : sometimes admitted 
to plead for others, when I am shut up for 
myself. Often granted liberty in social 
prayer, when cold in secret : sometimes left 



88 



RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 



to my own natural powers of mind and ex- 
pressions, and sometimes deprived even of 
this. Sometimes clear views of spiritual things, 
liberty of thought and expression, while all 
the affections appeared to be in exercise ac- 
cording to the subject. Sometimes clear and 
fruitful ideas with apt and expressive words, 
while animal nature seemed to be asleep ; all 
sweet, calm, and perfect serenity. Some- 
times one or more of the parts of a subject of 
prayer dwelt on with freedom and light, and 
sometimes all and every part alike — when 
the soul could go from subject to subject 
with equal freedom and delight. 

If I am to judge of myself, I have been 
deficient in Meditation; though sometimes 
more, and sometimes less attentive. 

Conversation. — I have often found liberty 
in it when practical. And frequently a good 
and quickening effect following, though some 
times shut out and barren. 

In the Lord's Supper^ I suppose I have 
little of the evidence of God's children ; no 
extraordinary manifestations here. But I have 



OF JOHN M^CORKLE. 



89 



observed that I always came away more or 
less quickened, or more or less dead — never 
as I went forward. 

Temptations* — I have met with few if any, 
but what are common ; yet I have had somj^- 
sudden and unaccountable evil impressions or 
suggestions; except we admit of fi^ry darts, 
as described by the Apostle. — (Eph. vi. 16.) 
And sometimes I have been unseasonably 
liaunted, or followed by such thoughts as 
these : that there was no God, no Saviour, no 
operating spirit, and no immortality in the 
soul. Spiritual pride has been such a com- 
mon and destructive enemy to me, that I have 
often thought it was my predominant sin ; 
and I have often been afraid to desire enjoy- 
ment, for fear of an opportunity of the growth 
of that strange sin, that seems to grow best 
when other sins wither and decay. 

Though in the providence of God t^me, 
there has been little in my life that to the 
view of others was singular, yet I have seen 
to my own view many things, in which a par- 
ticular providence was manifested. And I 
hope I have learned to believe, that God not 



90 RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 



only can, but has chosen and conducted 
things respecting me better than any human 
wisdom could have done. And I think I can 
with honesty say, that at the age of almost 
'fifty years, if God were to leave me to choose 
tor myself, for the little remainder of my life, 
and 1 shjould know it, I would be very un- 
happy in the thought. Tf I know myself, my 
petition wpuld be. Lord choose my changes. 
And I would take the liberty of telling my 
young friend, that resignation to the dispen- - 
sations of God's providence, is one of the 
best and sweetest blessings we enjoy here. 
It is both food and medicine, that will agree 
with every appetite, and suit every disease. 

Affliction, — Though I would fain hope the 
Lord hath quickened and comforted me some- 
times in afflictions, yet I have been taught 
that they are only a means, and ineffectual of 
themselves. 

I have now, my friend, finished what you 
requested and 1 promised. And though in a 
very imperfect manner, yet with what truth, 
plainness, and honesty I am capable of. I 
know you will wish and need somo explana- ' 



OF JOHN M'CORKLE. 



91 



tions ; and I know I ought as far as I can, to 
give them. You have had more from me 
of the Lord's way of dealing with me, than 
any one living, except the wife of my bosom. 
I make no doubt it will amuse you ; but iyjl 
should in any degree profit you, either by^Hj 
forming, quickening, or comforting you, 1 
have abundant reward for my little labour. 
And may the Lord enable you to give Him 
the praise. 

I charge you again not to trust to any thing 
in my experience, without the word of God 
confirming the same. 

The Lord has not been pleased to give me 
assurance, neither do I ask it. I am afraid 
it would not be for my good, while t have 
such a wretched nature within me. You may 
think so too. If the Lord keeps me seeking 
here, and at last gives me a little happiness, 
and perfect holiness above, it is more than 
ought to be expected by your unworthy 
friend, John McCorkle. 



THE END. 




» Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process, 
^ Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: May 2006 

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